


Perception Filter

by Meatball42



Series: Torchwood Oneshots [10]
Category: Torchwood
Genre: Ambiguity, F/M, Implied/Referenced Domestic Violence, M/M, Misunderstandings, POV Outsider, Rhys thinks he's CSI
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-17
Updated: 2015-10-17
Packaged: 2018-04-23 09:40:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,499
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4872004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Meatball42/pseuds/Meatball42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rhys isn’t a CSI, but he can tell when something’s not quite right.</p><p>Written for the comment-fic prompt ‘Rhys/Gwen, Jack/Ianto, before he knows what Torchwood does, Rhys thinks Jack beats Ianto.’</p>
            </blockquote>





	Perception Filter

The first time Rhys thought something odd was afoot to do with Gwen’s colleagues was in April, after his fiancé’s twat of a boss had disappeared without notice and reappeared with even less. Gwen invited him out for drinks ‘with the team.’ He’d asked if the others were bringing their partners, and Gwen bit her lip.

“I’m sort of the only one who has anyone outside work,” she said, her compassionate tone willing Rhys to be understanding. He might have been a bit self-conscious, but the desire to see more of Gwen’s life won out.

Meeting Gwen’s colleagues alleviated some of his worries. ‘Doctor’ Owen Harper was the sort Rhys would love to have as a mate, but would probably come to hate almost immediately if they had to work together. Toshiko Sato, or ‘Tosh,’ was a lot more polite, if rather caught up in her own intelligence. Rhys hardly noticed Ianto Jones, except that he seemed to be extending his ‘general support’ role, as Gwen had called it, outside of work, fetching all their drinks and placing snack orders. He laughed along with the others, though, so Rhys just figured him as one of the background types.

‘Captain’ Harkness Rhys had met before, and he might have squeezed the American’s hand a bit harder than was polite, but his impression of the man improved over the next few hours. He’d held a grudge for the times he’d seen Harkness flirting with his girlfriend, but he quickly realized that the man was just the office flirt. The way the others all rolled their eyes and ignored him- Gwen included- went a long way toward relaxing Rhys.

So, all in all, the assortment of arses and weirdos you’d find in any workplace. The secrecy of Gwen’s job had caused Rhys to conjure up a James Bond-like scenario with secret agents going undercover with high-tech spy gear and hidden weapons; the reality was almost a letdown.

The only thing that stuck out was when Harkness reached out and wrapped his hand loosely around Jones’ wrist. To Rhys’ surprise, their colleagues all ignored the contact, even Jones, until Harkness laughed at one of the doctor’s jokes and his hand tightened. Jones grimaced and tugged his wrist away, rubbing it; the sleeve rode up and Rhys caught a glimpse of long, dusky bruises curling around the pale limb.

[*]

Team drinks plus Rhys became, if not a regular occurrence, at least not an irregular one. Once or twice a month they would meet at a pub near the bay, and Rhys was always the only plus one. He considered that they could all use more contact with non-special-ops people, but his interest was being turned to the mystery he’d noticed that first night.  
It wasn’t uncommon for Gwen to come home with injuries. Rhys didn’t like it, but he accepted that his fiancé had a dangerous job, and so when Owen and Tosh showed up with a gunshot wound and a bruised forehead, he didn’t say anything.

But Ianto didn’t go into the field, did he? Gwen called him the paperwork and phone call man, the one who kept them all organized (Rhys knew she could certainly use an assistant all for herself). So when he walked into the pub one evening with cut hands and a black eye, Rhys felt there was cause for concern.

“Nasty shiner, mate,” he commented. “What’s that story?”

Harkness answered. “We’re trying a new feed with the office pet. Apparently she prefers the old brand.” He gave Rhys a look that was becoming rather familiar by that point, the ‘don’t ask questions’ face.

Rhys had just started watching the new CSI: Cardiff a few weeks before, and he was only slightly embarrassed to admit that it had become a sort of an obsession for him. So he was in a questioning, suspicious sort of mindset, and as the conversation moved on, he couldn’t help but apply his newly-found investigator’s instincts to the situation.  
  
Harkness’s answer explained the scratches on Ianto’s hands. But what sort of office pet could cause a black eye?

As he and Gwen left the table an hour and a half later, he couldn’t help but glance back at Ianto’s hands, the voice of one of the CSI’s whispering in his head: ‘Defensive wounds.’

[*]

Two weeks later, when Ianto arrived late with a splinted wrist, a rapidly swelling cheekbone and a seething Captain Harkness, Rhys was seriously concerned. His fiancé took orders from that bastard, who knew what sort of temper problems he had? And when Owen stood up to check the injuries, Ianto waved him off.

“Jack’s already taken care of it,” he told them, sliding into the booth gingerly, as though something else was sore.

“What happened?” Owen asked. Rhys took a gulp of his beer, trying not to look as though he were paying too much attention. Maybe he was being conspicuous, though, because Ianto glanced at him before answering.

“Fell off the ladder,” he muttered, looking down awkwardly at the table.

“I told you to wait until tomorrow, when you weren’t as tired,” Jack said. He spoke quietly but he sounded angry, and he stared at the bruise on the side of his boyfriend’s face too intently for Rhys’ comfort.

Ianto didn’t reply. After a moment of silence, the captain looked around the booth. “Anyone need refills?”

Ianto was surprised. “I can do that, I’m fine.”

“You sit down and shut up.” Harkness emphasized the order with an index finger and spun away without taking any orders.

Rhys looked at his fiancé, deeply unsettled, but she only rolled her eyes the way she always did when her boss said something out of order. Then he looked at Ianto, who was fiddling with a coaster and not looking anyone in the eye, and resolved that his time, he wouldn’t let it go.

[*]

“I think there’s something wrong.”

Gwen stared at him with pursed lips and crossed arms, never a good sign. “You don’t know them, Rhys. You don’t know Jack, that’s not like him at all. He’s one of the best men I’ve ever met.”

The surge of jealousy made Rhys speak louder than he’d intended. “You’ve never seen him act violently? Never got angry, never threatened anyone?” Gwen hesitated, and Rhys wanted to feel vindicated, but he just felt sick. “Are you safe there, Gwen?”

“I’m not afraid of Jack!” she said firmly. She stepped forward and put her hands on his chest. “I am grateful that you’re looking out for me, no really I am,” she insisted when he scoffed. “I’m so proud. I know I’m marrying such a noble man.” Gwen gazed into his eyes so sincerely and he believed her, just like always. She kissed him lightly. “But I swear to you, Jack’s not hurting Ianto, and he would never hurt me.”

Rhys wavered, but he believed her in the end.

[*]

It was another month before Rhys found out where Gwen really worked. She took him on a tour of the Hub after everything was over; he deserved it after helping them out, she’d argued to her boss. After Gwen introduced him to the Weevils, she brought him back up to the cavernous room for a calming drink.

“You’ll love Ianto’s coffee,” she said distractedly, already searching the platform for someone. “Stay here, I’ll be back in a minute.” She went straight to the captain’s office, and Rhys rolled his eyes.

“Like I’m in nursery,” he grumbled to Ianto, who was quietly brewing on a shiny coffee machine. The man smiled a bit, and Rhys noticed that the bruising on his face had faded. “You’re lookin’ better,” he commented. “That ladder, wouldn’t happen to be code for a bloody dinosaur, would it?” he asked with a grin.

Ianto looked startled, but nodded. “She startled me when I was climbing up to feed her. Jack was worried I’d broken my wrist.”

“You didn’t though, right?”

“Just a sprain.”

Rhys looked up at the roof of the ‘Hub’, with its bright lights, hanging cables and, apparently, naughty pterodactyls. “You know, I thought someone was roughin’ you up,” he confided. “Like Captain Flirt over there.”

Ianto started and looked at Rhys with a shocked expression.

“That was before I saw this lot, though,” Rhys hastened to assure him. “That office pet you mentioned- I can’t imagine tryin’ to feed one of those buggers in the cells,” he joked.

Ianto nodded slowly. “Yeah. Uh. Rhys,” he began hesitantly.

“It’s time for you to go,” came a loud voice from behind them. Both men spun around and found a frowning Jack Harkness.

Gwen hopped down the steps behind him and held out her arm for Rhys. “Why don’t we get some ice cream, love?”

“Sure,” he nodded. Just before she pulled him through the huge round door, Rhys glanced back. The captain was standing close to Ianto now, with one hand possessively touching his lower back. Jack glared at Rhys until he disappeared.


End file.
